Live From Spurs HQ
By Aaron Pena
Photography by Christopher Perez (@TXTroubleMaker)
Aaron Pena, proprietor of Gimme Gimme and diehard Spurs fan
Where to begin? I was tasked with writing about the Spurs’ playoff hopes way back in April without any clue where this run would take our team, the city, and the fans. We were merely approaching the first round when I first began gathering my thoughts on the feeling and air around San Antonio on our first trip back to the NBA Playoffs since 2019. While I sit here today with the knowledge of how this postseason ultimately shaped up for our beloved Silver & Black, let’s start from the beginning.
I suppose an introduction is in order: Who am I, and what makes my opinion on this team either of any importance or validity? My name is Aaron Peña, a 38-year-old native San Antonian, entrepreneur, and when called upon, reformed journalist.
For those of you familiar with my current line of work as proprietor of Gimme Gimme and Amor Eterno, you may be surprised to learn that I, your humble narrator, was once studying journalism before I dropped out to change the world, one drink at a time. Over the last decade-plus, I’ve made a living opening and operating some notable watering holes in this city, and you can still find me slinging a beer or two inside of these establishments in the present day, or just watching a Spurs game there among fellow fans.
My upbringing on the Southside was fostered by the joy surrounding this team and indoctrinated me to many of the traditions that I would later come to hold near and dear about my hometown.
Playing hoops was life growing up, and life was good. As a kid, I was raised in the glory days of basketball; the larger-than-life figures of the late 90s like Jordan, Barkley, Shaq, Penny, and David Robinson were my idols. When I wasn’t actively playing the sport, my days were spent watching any NBA game I could get on my TV, often in my room alone as I tried to emulate Shawn Kemp dunks on the Nerf hoop hanging above my closet during the commercial breaks.
Ironically, my earliest Spurs memory is from the 1999 Championship where we faced off against the Knicks for our very first ring, but what I remember most isn’t the Admiral raising his arms in victory, or Avery Johnson’s game winner—it's a small vinyl decal my parents proudly displayed on the screen door of my childhood home that read Party Like It’s 1999. Every day when I returned home from playing basketball in the park or playing video games at my best friend and neighbor’s house, the decal served as a constant reminder that the era of being a championship city was ours to claim now and forever. Every summer of my young life presented an opportunity to taste this glory again and again.
As I entered my teenage years after the ’99 championship, my rabid Spurs fandom was full strength on the backs of Tim Duncan and the Admiral inching ever-closer to retirement. It was not long before a young Argentinian player with long, shaggy hair would enter my worldview and forever alter how I saw basketball.
The “Big Three” – comprised of Tony Parker, Tim Duncan, and Emmanuel “Manu” Ginóbili – defined the era of San Antonio basketball that dominated my core memories, evoking feelings of childlike wonder so fond in recollection that I recently remarked that if I had to choose between being a Disney Land kid or running through downtown streets hugging strangers and honking down Military Drive after a Spurs championship, I would have gladly chosen the hand I was dealt in every lifetime.
The new millenium was the part of my childhood that felt like magic—almost indescribable to translate in ways an outsider could understand. Every year as spring bloomed, April was there to greet us with the color, sounds, and luring smells of Market Square during Fiesta, topped off by an imminent certainty that our home team would, indeed, be making yet another deep playoff run.
Beyond back-to-back playoff appearances, the Spurs of the 2000s delivered the fruit of their labor in the form of three more Larry O’Brien trophies.
In 2003, 2005, and 2007, I learned how to celebrate like a San Antonian. Traditions were formed, car horns were blared until they gave out, I learned how to navigate my downtown during the madness of celebration: it felt like this would last forever.
In 2013, I was taught a lesson that I was eventually able to thank Coach Pop for in person: how to lose with dignity and class, as we had conducted ourselves in victory. The infamous corner three by Ray Allen sunk a hole in my heart, and I knew the Game 7 to follow would serve the final death blow. I saw a frustrated Tim Duncan slap the court in a rare showcase of emotion – and for that offseason, we would retreat, lick our wounds, and continue to look ahead.
The following year taught us redemption, perseverance, and the immense will to reclaim what was left behind in the previous season: the coveted Larry O’Brien we still chase today.
I remember exactly where I was when I knew that we would be taking that trophy back home for a fifth time in 2014. Broadcast commentator Mike Breen called it an “avalanche” as our Spurs unleashed three-pointer after three-pointer to bolster our lead out of Miami’s reach. I ran straight out of the door from the house party at my late friend (and Spurs-diehard) Brandon Sherhouse’s place on Barrera Street, all the way up South Alamo. Running downtown, feeling all those emotions that I felt as a kid as a then-26-year-old young man was something I had been chasing all those years.
After the last of the Big Three bowed out in 2018, the Spurs’ 22-year playoffs streak was broken after 2019. Then, COVID severely disrupted the world and NBA in 2020. But it is always darkest before dawn. The difficult years are part of the story being written and Pop still had a pen.
Long before the 2023 draft, the internet was privy to a young 7’4” phenom from France gaining virality for doing a onehanded putback dunk off his own missed three-pointer. The odds of Victor “Wemby” Wembanyama ending up in San Antonio were still very farfetched in my mind, but as fate would have it, the day came.
Like all the other memories I’m blessed to have acquired in my life collecting Spurs lore, I will never forget where I was. I was on a rooftop off Congress in Austin, Texas. I had been hired by a mezcal brand to play records for a classy rooftop soirée on a particularly sweltering May evening. Somewhere in between the four-hour gig and the free Mezcal cocktails, I lost track of the date and time. The 2023 NBA Draft Lottery was underway as I meticulously placed my styluses on top of vinyl records, completely unaware of the approaching hour.
I looked down to my illuminated phone on the table holding my LPs as it rang, displaying a saved contact picture of myself as a baby held by my mother while I stood on her lap with a dumbfounded expression in a pair of overalls. Anytime the phone says “Mama” with the red heart emoji, you’d better answer... even from a rooftop in Austin.
“WE GOT HIM, WE GOT HIM!” she exclaimed.
I dropped my phone jumping in excitement and stopped the music, screaming to everyone that the Spurs had gotten the number one pick. Nobody attending the event seemed to care, but I knew right then and there that the future was now. For the first time in my life, I shelled out for season tickets.
Victor’s rookie campaign in 2023–24 was impressive from a statistical standpoint, as well as visually from the sheer awe of watching him play in person. But as we all can admit, and I’m sure he would agree, it was a disappointing first season in wins. At about five grand for a half-season bundle, I witnessed only two wins. (Vic, if you’re reading this and want to reimburse me, let me know.) We finished the season 22-60, and looked ahead to year two from Victor and these developing Spurs.
The sophomore year saw flashes of improvements, but was ultimately met with a daunting diagnosis of deep vein thrombosis for our emerging star—sidelining Victor for the 2024–25 season and leaving his entire future potentially hanging in the balance.
In a separately devastating blow to the team and morale, our head coach and beloved leader suffered a stroke in early November 2024, leaving his condition and timetable for return uncertain for the remainder of the season. We finished the year 34-48, seemingly spending most of the year in limbo trying to compensate for absence and uncertainty surrounding Victor and Coach Pop.
There was a silver lining to this particular season, though. The moment I realized we were, as the kids say, “so back” were the Paris games in January 2025, which aired locally around 11am. I tried to garner interest in watch parties at my Southtown establishment, Gimme Gimme, and decided to open early that day for the first game.
My approach was the same as famously throwing “Spurs parties” at my parents’ house in my youth. I bought a bunch of pizzas, stocked the bar, promoted it online on the forum previously known as Twitter, and opened the doors unsure of how much of a crowd I could expect. The first game, around 30 or 40 people showed up. For the second game a couple days later, there were a few more. It was a realization for me that not only did people want to see Vic and these young Spurs play, we were all emotionally invested again.
After years, we wanted to see them win, especially following Coach’s health scare – which we later learned was more serious than the mild stroke initially reported. It would end up being the reason he would later announce he was stepping away from coaching and transitioning to his new title, “El Jefe.”
Coach Pop had long been the even-keel, stoic presence on the sidelines my entire life, representing winning culture and embodying the excellence I associate with my city and our team. If I appear brief on this subject, it’s because I could speak all day on his legacy and what he means to us and the sport at large—and it still wouldn’t be enough. Something also tells me Coach would appreciate the fact that I’m keeping his portion concise, because he always felt the players and his staff were of the utmost importance.
In October 2025, we entered our first full season without him at the helm, and frankly, I was not concerned with his choice for his successor. Coach Pop said Mitch Johnson was the man for the job and his word is law in my book.
I remember an early season game this year where Coach Mitch barked at his bench about “embracing the mundane” and emphasizing stops and defense. It was so Coach Pop-esque: I immediately knew that our trajectory was going to surprise a lot of people this season. Truthfully, I still watch that clip for a quick hit of motivation (and it always succeeds in making me feel capable of running through a brick wall).
The start of our 2025–26 campaign felt different, but familiar. Watching Victor do the jaw-dropping double pump under-the-rim dunk and hitting a four-point play and a “cooking” motion in the first game of the season against the Mavs, I firmly believed we finally arrived, again.
Let’s be honest, no one likes to lose, it is much easier to sell a product when it is good, and I won’t hold anyone who didn’t stick around and support these Spurs during the down years—although I may still call you about a bandwagon fan from time to time. Victor finished that game with 40 points and a bunch of other equally incredible stats, but most importantly in my eyes – as I looked around a packed bar of cheering people – he captivated fans and refueled the fire.
The season went on, and somewhere around the All Star break, I think we all started to look around and realize that we were headed back to the playoffs, right back where we’ve always belonged. We’d finish this campaign at a shocking 62-20, in second place in the Western Conference – much to the dismay of the media and other teams who, before the season even began, had us marked as nothing more than a Play-In Tournament team, or a sixth or seventh seed at best.
This would not be the case—not for this team, not for these young Spurs. With Fiesta in the air in April, we watched in anticipation during the Play-In Tournament games until our first-round opponent was revealed: the Portland Trail Blazers.
Round one of the NBA Playoffs wasn’t without its share of difficulties. In Game 2, we watched our French star’s head bounce off the court in what appeared to be a routine under the basket play – unable to brace himself for impact.
This was the only playoff game I was able to attend: I felt the collective audible gasp of an entire city who just thought to themselves if this was where our first attempt at a championship run would end. We would be without Victor’s services for the third game of the series while he cleared concussion protocol, but still wrapped it up in five. With that, the Spurs had officially made it farther than they did the last time during the summer of 2019.
I have no interest in fully recapping each game or series because we all watched them already. This article is about a sport, a team, and its players, but more importantly, I believe it is about the feeling in this city that I feel silly even saying had been “starved” for a playoff berth, or “has been waiting for a championship” because, in reality, it had only been seven years since our last postseason appearance, and a mere twelve years since we raised our last championship banner.
But dammit, the people wanted to honk! And honk we did.
Photo by Nick Blevins
The first Playoff win erupted the city into a familiar frenzy. With the sweet sounds of horns filling the downtown air, both Commerce and Military alike were packed with cars waving prideful Spurs flags and hoisting oversized, plastic aliens into the air in a new homage to the moniker of our new face of the franchise.
Now, I’m not going to die on this hill, or be the middle-aged guy to say “back in my day,” but it is worth noting that, historically, honking had been reserved ONLY for close-out games and championship celebrations in years prior. However, for this particular run, I think we all made an exception. We are living through catastrophically divisive times, and you have to get your kicks in whenever you can.
Spurs forward Julian Champagnie, himself, was spotted honking among the people downtown after the Spurs closed out the first series.
The next two rounds saw matchups against increasingly tougher opponents, former MVPs, and full-blown superstars. With each win, the city seemed to grow closer, united by that old feeling of knowing that the dream of being capital-C champions was, once again, within reach.
Advancing to the NBA Finals seemed overly momentous as is. The emotions surrounding what this moment meant for our young team cautioned me to not celebrate too early, because the job was far from done.
We know how this season ended. We tragically came up short, and after some mourning and debriefing to myself and amongst my diehard fans and colleagues, all was pretty quickly forgotten because nobody, including me, thought that this was even possible for a team full of players under 25! This is one chapter of a greater legacy, and besides, to be legendary requires being sharpened by adversity. So, I’m not going to dwell on it (and neither should you). Instead, I’ll tell you the lessons I took away from it.
I spent the entire year hyping up watch parties for Spurs during the regular season and promoting the bar as “Spurs HQ,” the finest place to watch basketball in the city. My favorite place to watch the NBA Playoffs and Finals was behind my DJ booth at Gimme Gimme, watching fans in a standing room-only bar react to our wins and losses. (It’s my favorite spot because I can most effectively hide and no one asks me to work.) I must’ve called it Spurs HQ enough, because soon, it was appearing on other people’s posts about the bar and fans were pouring in for the games. I was so proud that the city was back to this moment. San Antonio rallied behind its team again, and the future felt brighter than ever for what is one of the most economically segregated cities in the nation.
When the Spurs win, the city wins. This years’ historic championship run had a dramatically positive impact on the local economy and small businesses – from hotels, bars, and restaurants to artists, vendors, and anyone else who got to be part of it. The hospitality industry, which has historically seen a slump in summer sales, experienced a surge instead. The timing is a bit serendipitous as it comes on the heels of a contentious vote on Project Marvel in November last year concerning public funding for the proposed district of the team’s future downtown arena.
I think regardless of what side of the argument you fall on in this debate, this year reminded us all that the Spurs are the glue that binds this city together. They form the cultural fabric of San Antonio – providing us, young and old, with cherished memories to last a lifetime. For another year of my life, I was lucky to feel that same thrill of being a kid again, and the best part? We get to do it all over again next year, and
POR VIDA... ■
